Lois flew away to San Diego. Gregory and Beth rounded up our grandchildren and drove them home to Las Vegas. Polly’s back in Phoenix. Thanksgiving is history and Donna and I are alone with our cat and dog (of course Christmas is almost here now, so it won’t be quiet for long).
My favorite photo of the weekend:
No girly-boy happy meals for my grandson . . . he’s a wing man like his father and grandfather. When he’s old enough for his first pitcher of beer, I hope he shares it with his father at Hooters!
When I was stationed at MacDill AFB in Tampa between 1986 and 1989, my son and I used to ride our motorcycles over to the original Hooters in Clearwater. At the time we thought it was the only Hooters, and we loved the place. I like their wings, and even though the whole tight T-shirts & tits thing is, to say the least, unenlightened, I like the ambiance. And tell you what, if you’re one of those throwbacks who’s still into tight T-shirts & tits, you can’t go wrong bringing a handsome young boy to Hooters, because every girl in the place is going to pay your table a visit!
Hmmm . . . I have a sudden urge to buy some Truck Nutz!